The Diamond of Drury Lane Frank's POV
by TabbyCat01
Summary: This is the first book in the Cat Royal series, but written from Lord Francis's point of view!
1. Chapter 1

I stared at the large carved wooden clock on the wall. Willing the hands to move by the sheer intensity of my gaze. The minute hand inched forward and I smiled triumphantly flattering myself that even time moved for me. Then I remembered that one minute didn't even make a dent it my study time. Frustrated I stared down at the Latin book laying on the desk in front of me. My tutor, Mr. Herbert, was watching me. I guessed that he was trying to decide whether or not he should let me be done for the day and was relieved when he finally approached my desk. "Seeing as you are having a hard time concentrating, Master Francis, you may go. You will have to make up for it tomorrow though." He added as an afterthought. But I didn't wait long enough to hear it. I was out the door and in my room in a flash. Flopping down on my bed, I closed my eyes and let my thoughts take over.

In just a few hours we would be going to the theater. The Theater Royal on Drury Lane to be exact. I had been to Covent Garden a few times but only once before had I gone to the Theater Royal. I love the theater because everything seems so much more exciting on stage then in real life. My mother used to be an actress before she married my father so I guess I got my love of the theater from her. Tonight there was to be a special performance by a musical protégé Pedro Hawkins. Lizzie was looking forward to hearing him play but I was more interested in what was going on behind the scenes. Father had never before permitted us to go back stage but I was hoping that I might be able to convince him this time.

There was a knock at the door and I jumped. Realizing that it was now almost dark outside I sat up, "Come in," I called. Lizzie entered the room and stood in front of me. "Dinner is ready," she said, "and immediately afterwards we will be leaving for the theater. So you better hurry." I stood up to get ready and she quietly slipped out of the room.

My father, Lizzie, and I climbed into the carriage. Or really it was me who was climbing. Lizzie entered with grace and my father with great dignity. But in my excitement to get to the theater I seemed to have forgotten how to enter a carriage. My father opened his mouth to reprimand me but decided against it and closed it again.

On arriving at the Theater Royal, the owner, Mr. Sheridan, came to greet us. "Ah! The Duke of Avon! You are most welcome sir." He bowed and turned to me and my sister, "Lord Francis, Lady Elizabeth, it's a pleasure to have you at the Theater Royal." I bowed and Lizzie curtsied, then we were led inside the theater. The outside of the theater was a little worn looking, although in the dark you couldn't really tell, but on the inside it was quite spectacular. We followed Mr. Sheridan through a narrow corridor and up a flight of stairs. He stopped in front of a door and opened it. Stepping into the manager's box he exclaimed said jokingly, "keeping my seat warm for me, were you, Cat?" I saw a small red haired girl tumble out of the big chair in the middle of the box. She stood in the corner of the room eyeing us warily. Her green eyes came to rest on Lizzie's dress. Hers was worn and patched and I guessed that he was wondering what it would be like to own something so fine. Then looking at Mr. Sheridan she said quietly, "Yes sir," with a curtsie. "Run along then, make room for Lord Francis and Lady Elizabeth," he said shooing her away. Immediately she rushed out the door. I watched her disappear down the hall and wondered where she was going and who she was. I had never really seen anyone from the lower classes so close up before.

We had arrived in the middle of the fifth act. I was a little upset that we hadn't seen the whole thing but I sat down next to Lizzie and enjoyed the play anyways. The play ended and during the time before the last farce began I looked down at the pit and watched all the people. Near the back of the room I saw a little patch of red under the glow of a lamp. Taking a closer look I realized that it was a girl, probably the same one that I had seen in here earlier, who was hanging onto a pillar in order to get a good view over everyone's heads. I smiled then looked back at the stage where the curtain opened revealing and empty stage. Angry voices from the crowd called out until music started playing. They calmed down a bit listening to the exotic music. Then a long rope with a small anchor at its end tumbled down from the ceiling. You could hear the creaking of ropes and shouting as a hot air balloon appeared, floating above the stage. My eyes grew wide with wonder and the crowd gasped. The balloon was smoothly lowered to the ground and the actor, who I knew to be Mr. Andrews, jumped out. The crowd cheered and clapped calling "Encore!" Mr. Andrews raised his hand for silence, "I am one John Smith, a poor English balloonist. I earn an honest living by offering rides in my craft in Green Park in that greatest of cities, London. But one day as I mounted in my balloon, I was blown by a sudden wind to the east. I wonder to what fair country I have been carried? I shall explore before I return." He emphasized the word return and the peopled murmured happily. The farce was simple but funny. The palace guards threaten the stranger whose has landed in the harem of the Great Mogul (played by a Mr. Kemble). He asks the Mogul, who is a man of learning and mercy, to spare him. The Mogul agrees, in return for a ride in the balloon. "And now, I will show you the greatest wonder of my kingdom. My son and heir will entertain you before you depart." Says the Great Mogul, clapping his hands. Two slaves appear, carrying a chest built to look like the towers of an eastern palace. They lift the lid and two fountains of white sparks came pouring out. The Prince, a young black boy, leapt out lightly onto center stage. He began to play on a violin that seemed to appear from nowhere. The beautiful sound seemed to put everybody in a trance, including myself, and when he stopped there was complete silence until the crowd erupted into applause. I jumped up and cheered loudly with the rest. My father gave me a stern look and I had to be content with just clapping. He played another faster song and ended when it became too fast for the crowd to keep time to.

When the theater was finally quiet enough for the play to resume John Smith (Mr. Andrews) jumped back into the balloon and called out, "Farewell! See you in Green Park!" I waited in anticipation for the balloon to rise back up in the air but it didn't move. The young prince suddenly thrust his violin into the Great Mogul's hands and jumped onto the balloon. Climbing up the ropes expertly he soon disappeared in the ceiling. I wondered what was happening and whether or not this was part of the play. "Look my son goes to ask the gods to allow the balloon of the Christian barbarian to return to his damp island," called the Great Mogul. A few minutes later the prince came gliding down the ropes and landed lightly by the Great Mogul who asked, "Are the gods content to let this heathenish contraption rise again?" The prince nodded and the Mogul cried, "then farewell stranger." The balloon rose back up in the air and I followed it with my eyes until it disappeared.

From somewhere in the back near where I had seen the red haired girl, the people began to call "Bravo Pedro!" and other praises until the boy was pushed onstage to take his own bow.

Lizzie turned to our father, "Oh! Please father, let us go meet him! May I invite him to play for us?" Father looked at her and smiled. "Of course, I would like to congratulate the boy myself," then turning to Mr. Sheridan he asked, "Would it be alright if we met the actors?" Mr. Sheridan smiled brightly and opened the door saying, "Right this way. I will lead you to them."

Finally! I was going back stage! I couldn't wait to see all of the people in costume and the props and sets. I hoped that I would get to ride in the balloon.

The Green Room, where all of the actresses and actors had gathered, was packed. It was hot and loud but I didn't notice, the many costumes and the scenery fascinated me. "Ladies and Gentlemen," said Mr. Sheridan loudly, the room became quiet "I have the great honor of presenting a very special visitor to you. The Duke of Avon expressed the desire of personally conveying his appreciation of tonight's performance to you all." Father stepped forward and clearing his throat said, "As my honorable friend here says, I thought you excelled yourselves tonight—none more so than our little African. Where is he? My children in particular would like to meet him."

Pedro was pushed forward by someone in the crowd. He bowed before my father who exclaimed, "An unforgettable debut! Well done!" Then Mr. Sheridan brought him to stand in front of me and my sister.

After asking a few questions about the theater, which he unfortunately could not answer as well as I would have liked, I left the rest of the talking to my sister. Lizzie was standing quietly listening to Pedro's story about how he saved the balloon and people began talking again. I shifted from foot to foot eagerly looking at everything in sight. Standing by the door watching us I spotted the red haired girl. I grinned at her and elbowing Lizzie said, "Look its Sheridan's Cat, Lizzie. I wondered what had become of her." The girl evidently heard me for immediately she tried to slip away. But Pedro was too quick for her and grabbed her arm, dragging her in front of us he said, "Allow me to introduce you to her." Then addressing me "You say, my Lord, that you want to know about the theater; well, here is our resident expert." He said waiving his hand at her with a flourish. She blushed and curtsied quickly.

I was surprised to hear that she lived at the theater and eyed her curiously. "So, Miss…?" asked Lizzie. "Miss Catherine Royal," she said in a tone that told me that she didn't use her full name often. Smiling Lizzie asked, "Miss Royal, what do you do at the theater?"

"Do you sing? Do you play?" I asked eagerly.

She hesitated. "She writes, o yes, the first production of her pen will soon be on all good bookstands—a story of mystery and intrigue from a child prodigy. She is a bookseller's dream, a gift to the journals!" Said Pedro.

"Well, I am impressed! Will it be full of banditi and haunted castles?" asked Lizzie.

"Or highwaymen and thief catchers?" I asked.

Miss Royal smiled, "Oh no, nothing like that. It is set here, in Drury Lane and will go from the lowest ranks of society to the highest, from the gangs and barrow boys to the barons and beauties. My themes will be—," here she paused, searching for the right words "the wickedness of treason, the sting of revenge, and the noble disinterestedness of love, all set behind the scenes."

"Excellent!" I cried, clapping my hands, "And what is it to be called?"

Again Miss Royal hesitated and Pedro spoke up. "The Diamond of Drury Lane." She stared at him angrily, but Lizzie didn't notice and said, "That sounds wonderful. Perhaps you and Mr. Hawkins would accept an engagement to entertain a gathering of our friends next Friday—if you can be spared from your other duties that is?"

Hesitantly Miss Royal asked, "What kind of engagement?"

"Mr. Hawkins to play, of course, and you to read us a chapter of your most interesting work." Rplied Lizzie mater-of-factly.

"Capital Idea!" I said. I had the feeling that Miss Royal's story would be just like the kind of adventure that I wanted.

Pedro quickly accepted and Lizzie made a note in her small note book saying, "Then we will expect you at you around six."

"But…" said Miss Royal. She was interrupted by Pedro who also stepped on her toes to stop her from speaking, "What Miss Royal means to say is 'thank you, but where exactly should we come?'"

Just thinking of home made me tired and I stifled a yawn while answering, "Grosvenor square. South side. You can't miss it." Apparently this did not sound so dull to Miss Royal for her eyes grew wide in amazement. Pedro said with a bow, "We will willingly accept your gracious invitation."

Lizzie began searching the room for Father and when she caught his eye he came over to us. From his unsteady walk and flushed face I knew he had been enjoying the champagne. "Come along my dears time you were in your beds." He said. I rolled my eyes, he was always making us go to bed before I was tired so I would spend my evenings staring out of my bedroom window for hours. "Did you get what you want Lizzie?"

"Indeed Papa, more. Miss Royal has also agreed to entertain us." She replied.

My Father looked at Miss Royal skeptically. Afraid that either he would not allow her to come or that he would scare her away, I said quickly, "She writes the most wonderful stories sir." He exclaimed, "Oh? A writer is she? How extraordinary for a girl of her class! I will be very interested to hear more about this. Perhaps you need a patron to get published, young lady? I am all for encouraging the lower orders to rise above the disadvantages of their station in life—as long as it is consistent with womanly virtues of course." "I can vouch for Miss Royal, your grace. I expect it can be arranged for her to leave a sample of her work when we come on Friday so that you may persue it at your leisure." Said Pedro. "Excellent, till Friday then." Said my father, leading Lizzie to the door. I lagged behind trying to store as many of the interesting sites in my head as possible. I was a little upset that we hadn't gotten to look around more but I hoped that I could ask Miss Royal if she could give me a tour sometime when she came on Friday.


	2. Chapter 2

I spent the rest of the week in anticipation of Friday. My good friend Charlie, The Honorable Charles Hengrave, would be coming. I was also looking forward to Pedro's music, which I admit I did enjoy, and Miss Royal's story which by the sound of it was much more to my taste than the Latin books my tutor made me read. The only problem was that the Marchmonts would be there too. I never liked them but our fathers were friends, so we had spent many torturous hours together.

As Charlie and I stood in the corner of the room waiting for the rest of the guests to arrive I told him about my plans to get Miss Royal to give us a tour of the theater.

"What a splendid idea!" He said, "Would we be able to use the props or costumes?"

"I don't know, but I was rather hoping they would let us ride in the hot air balloon." I said.

The door was opened and Joseph, our footman announced the Marchmonts. I groaned and walked slowly to the door to greet them. Marzi-pain Marchmont, as Charlie and I so fondly called him, seemed just as unhappy being there as I was. Lizzie was busy with her friends so it was up to me to entertain them. As politely as I could, I led them to some seats and prepared myself for the painful task of talking nicely to them. At last there was a knock at the door. I looked up expectantly. Joseph stood there hesitantly then finally spoke, "There are two young people here. They say that they are from Drury Lane and that you are expecting them, Lady Elizabeth."

"Oh, yes. Please show them in." Lizzie said.

I nearly sighed with relief but stopped myself just in time. Within moments the door was opened again and Joseph coughed, then announced, "Lady Elizabeth, your visitors have arrived: Miss Royal and Mr. Hawkins." They stepped into the room and Joseph quickly closed the door behind them. I was surprised by how nice Miss Royal looked. With her hair brushed and pulled back and wearing a nice, though not very fashionable, dress. Lizzie had risen to her feet and was now greeting them.

"Miss Royal, Mr. Hawkins, we are delighted to see you both." She said.

I used this as an opportunity to escape and nearly ran over to them.

"Just when we needed living up! Who's to go first, eh?" I asked.

Pedro bowed and said, "I am to have that pleasure."

Miss Royal looked at Pedro with an amused expression and a smile. I was still trying to figure out why when Pedro began to play. He played a piece by Mozart beautifully and when he finished everyone, including the Marchmonts, applauded him. I looked at Miss Royal who was now looking extremely nervous. Taking her hand and leading her to a seat I said, "Now, Miss Royal, it is your turn. We are most eager to hear from you."

"If you wish, sir," she said as she unfolded her papers. With a nervous cough and a deep breath she began, "Reader, you are set to embark on an adventure told by an ignorant and predjudiced author—me."

I couldn't help but laugh at her introduction and Charlie, obviously feeling the same, joined me. Miss Royal looked up quickly and Lizzie gave her an encouraging smile. She continued to read, "'Much harm done Tom?' I asked as I clambered over the upturned benches to reach the stagehand as he cleared away the debris from last night's riot…" She continued on for ten minutes telling stories of gangs fighting in the streets and treasures hidden in the theater, showing us the illustrations as she went. I had never heard stories like the ones she told and I was immediately overcome by the urge to see these things for myself. When she finished, the room was silent. One of Lizzie's friends broke the silence, "Heavens!" she said, "To think that people really live like this! Fighting in the streets—can you believe it!"

Miss Royal was now looking very uneasy.

"I think it's grand. Come on, Charlie, how about it?" I said, playfully punching him. Apparently I hit him harder than I thought for he doubled up in pain.

"Frank!" scolded Lizzie raising her eyebrow at me. I looked apologetically at her and helped Charlie to a seat.

"Well, it certainly was unorthodox." Said Jane, my cousin, "Though perhaps the subject matter is a little unbecoming for a lady. I would have expected Miss Royal to begin with some witty general observation, a wryly expressed universal truth, for example, on love and courtship—the usual themes for the female pen."

"Oh, Jane! How can you be so dull?" I said, "We don't want none of that girly stuff. Straight into the action, that's what we like and that's what Miss Royal gave us. And I thought the pictures were capital."

Marchmont, suddenly becoming alert said, "The pictures did indeed display an uncommon talent, but I am not sure if Miss What's-Her-Name's outpourings are respectable enough for my sisters to hear, Lady Elizabeth." Lizzie looked worried but I was annoyed.

"Rubbish, Marchmont." I said. But he continued on.

"It's stuff like that which leads to anarchy. We see it daily in France; I hope to God we do not see it here." He said.

"Parroting your Pittite phrases are you," I said, "you'd better not let your father find out. As a friend of liberty, he wouldn't like to hear that his son's a dyed-in-the-wool reactionary."

"Francis!" hissed Lizzie.

"I think we had better go." Marchmont said leading his sisters to the door, "Thank you for a lovely evening, Lady Elizabeth. The music was superb."

Everyone else decided to leave as well but Pedro and Miss Royal stood uncertainly waiting in the corner of the room. When everyone had left Lizzie turned to me, "Frank, do you have to be so rude to my guests?"

I shrugged, "I don't know why you invited them, Lizzie. Just because father's friendly with his father, it doesn't mean we have to endure them. You know I think Marchmont a prig. You are too polite to say what you really think of his sisters, but I know you don't like them."

"Yes, but to attack him in our own drawing room—that's very bad manners!"

"And criticizing your brother in front of strangers isn't" I nodded at Pedro and Miss Royal.

Lizzie blushed. "I'm sorry. I did not realize that you were still here."

She nudged me towards them and hissed, "Go on. Pay them."

I walked up to Pedro and bowed. Dropping a purse full of coins into his hand I said, "A token of our sincere appreciation of your talents."

He thanked me and I turned to Miss Royal. "I hope our ill-mannered guest did not offend you, Miss Royal? You did splendidly. Tell me: does all this really happen as you describe it?"

She smiled and nodded. "Yes sir."

Pedro jumped in. "It's even better than she writes it. We have parties and music, boxing and battles."

"Boxing!" I said eagerly, "My great passion is the ring! I want to learn how to box, but father won't let me." For years I had been asking him to let me take lessons but he refused.

Leaning towards me confidentially Pedro said, "Well, Cat here—I mean Miss Royal—just so happens to be best friends with Covent Garden's boxing champion. We are watching him in a match on Sunday. For a small consideration, we might be able to take you along."

"Pedro!" she whispered in warning.

I was surprised to hear that she was friends with a boxing champion. Most girls I had met didn't even know what boxing was. I thought aloud. "Will you?...Yes, I might be able to get away." Looking over my shoulder quickly I saw Lizzie sitting at the piano playing a melancholy love song. "Lizzie's a bit absent minded at the moment, mooning over one of her suitors who ran off late last night. She's not as sharp as normal. If I pretend to be ill and get out of church, I should be able to do it."

"We'll meet you on the corner of Grosvenor Square then. At ten." Said Pedro quickly.

"At ten," I agreed.

Miss Royal Glared at Pedro and said sullenly, " _If_ you are coming, you'd better dress down a bit, sir."

I grinned at her, "Right you are Cat—I mean Miss Royal."

After they left I immediately began thinking up a disguise I could wear. Finally I decided on a chimney sweep that way I could put soot on my face to act like a mask. Now I just needed to get the clothes.

I had the next day free to myself so I set about trying to put together an outfit. I went down to the stables and found Jenkins, the stable boy.

"Jenkins," I said confidentially, "Do you think you could get me some clothes. Something that a chimney sweep would wear."

"Yes sir," he replied, "When do want them?"

I smiled. "Tomorrow morning around ten. I'll come down here and you can give them to me then." I gave him a few coins and walked away.

There was a knock on my door. "Come in," I called weakly.

Lizzie opened the door and stared at me lying in bed. "Why aren't you ready? What's wrong?"

"I don't feel very well." I said.

Looking concerned she approached the side of my bed. She felt my forehead. "You don't feel warm."

I groaned. "No, but I do feel sick."

"Alright. I will go tell father that you won't be coming." She said walking towards the door, "Do you want me to have a maid bring you breakfast?"

"No thank you." I replied, "I don't think I could eat." I had a hard time keeping the excitement out of my voice.

As soon as Lizzie's footsteps faded away I jumped out of bed. I quietly slipped out my door and down the hall. Swiftly I ran down the stairs and passed the kitchen. I had gotten out safely and I hoped without anyone seeing me. I entered the stables and found Jenkins waiting for me. He handed me some clothes and I quickly put them on. Rubbing soot on my face completed my transformation and when I appeared in front of Jenkins he just smiled and walked away. I hid in an alley near where we were supposed to meet and with a good view of my house so that I could watch for Lizzie and my father. Carriages were pulling up to the front doors to pick up their passengers for church. When my father and Lizzie, walking arm in arm, left the house I saw two young boys hide behind a carriage. They looked familiar.

The coachman yelled at them, "'Ere, what you playin' at? Get away from my carriage."

The smaller boy shouted, "What's your problem mate? We haven't scratched your precious paintwork." And stuck his tongue at him. I smiled. I had recognized that voice.

The other boy, who I realized was Pedro, pulled her away saying, "Come on, Cat. You're enjoying this too much."

She laughed. "I can't tell you how good it feels to get out of petticoats. I feel like a different person."

"I can see that. Where is he?"

The clocks began to strike the hour. I whistled and threw a clump of dirt at Pedro. It hit the back of his head and he turned around angrily. Quickly I walked up to them spreading my arms wide so they could inspect my appearance.

Cat exclaimed, "Lord Francis! I'd never've recognized you!"

"Nor I you, Miss Royal." I said looking her up and down. Her hair had all been tucked up into her cap and without her mass of red curls she was hardly recognizable.

Stuffing a stray strand of hair deeper into her cap she said, "Forget Miss Royal, call me Cat."

"And you'd both better drop that Lord business. How about calling me Frank?" I said, stuffing my hands in my pockets.

"As you wish sir," said Pedro.

Looked down the street towards where my father and sister had disappeared. "Frank."

"Frank," said Pedro uncertainly.

Cat, as I was now calling her, turned around and started walking towards Oxford street. "Come on, we'd better hurry! We don't want to miss it." She called over her shoulder.

We ran through the streets, something which I had never done, dodging carriages, jumping over puddles, and jostling the families walking to church. Even though it was gray and drizzling I didn't notice it because of the excitement of the adventure I was on. Soon we had left the town behind. Although it was still plenty crowded with men on their way to the boxing match.

When we had slowed down to a walk because of the crowd I asked Cat, "So, who is your friend the boxing champion?"

She smiled, "His name is Syd, he is a butcher."


	3. Chapter 3

The bookmaker, holding up a book, called out, "Place your bets, gents! Two to one for the Camden crusher to beat the Butcher with a knock out."

I looked at him longingly, "That doesn't sound too good for your friend, does it?" I said fingering the coins in my pocket, "Shall I place a bet on him winning?"

"No!" Cat said quickly pulling me back, "Just how do you think a chimney sweep could afford to bet gold? You'll be found out in one second flat."

"I suppose you are right," I said gloomily taking my hands out of my pockets, "And Father's always forbidden me to bet."

"He's a sensible man," said Pedro. He was gazing after the toffee-apple seller.

I pulled a few coins out of my pocket and handed them him. "I did take the precaution of putting a few pennies in among my guineas. Why don't you buy us all one?"

"Thank you, sir," he said.

A man turned to look at us curiously. "Not 'sir'—Frank," hissed Cat.

"Thanks Frank."

When he came back he was carrying four apples. "Four!" I asked, "Why four?"

"One for luck," he mumbled, then swallowed, "She'd seen me at the theater, she said, so gave me one for nothing."

Dryly Cat said, "Come on, let's find ourselves a spot before we get mobbed by Pedro's admirers," and pulled her hat down lower over her face.

We were pushed along with the crowd which was splitting up around the raised platform. The arena was surrounded by rails and benches holding several gentlemen. We squeezed between people and under arms until we finally pushed our way through to the front. The two young men sat in their corners. One having his back oiled the other listening intently to his second.

A boy about my own age appeared next to Cat, "'Ello, Prince, Cat. 'Oo's the soot?"

Pedro handed him the extra apple, "Frank. He's new."

"'E's a bit big for the chimneys, ain't 'e?" He asked looking at me curiously, "I thought they only liked nippers of eight 'n' under."

I said quickly, "My master specializes in big chimneys, big houses. My younger brother does the small ones." I hadn't thought of that before, but luckily I was able to come up with an excuse, though not a very good one, fast enough.

"Oh," he said losing interest, "Right you are."

"Who is he?" I whispered to Pedro.

"He's Nick. One of the Butcher's Boys." He replied.

Nick nudged Cat and nodded at one of the young men who I realized must be the Camden Crusher, "Looks bad, doesn't it, Cat? But Syd'll be glad you came. You're 'is lucky mascot. Oi, Syd!" He shouted, "Cat's 'ere!"

Syd, a tall, muscular, blonde haired boy, turned and looked down at us. He winked at Cat, "All right, Cat?" he called.

For a second Cat looked concerned but she quickly smiled at him and called back up loudly, "Yes, good luck!"

While she was distracted, Nick brought out a piece of paper and showed it to me and Pedro. It was a crude drawing of a member of the government squatting over a chamber pot marked 'The Oppressed Masses'.

Cat turned around and seeing us all sniggering over the cartoon asked, "What's that?"

Nick quickly hid it behind his back. "Nuffink."

"Don't give me that!" she said trying to wrestle it away from him, "Let me see!"

In a low voice I said to Cat, "Er, Cat. I don't think its suitable for a lady's eyes."

"Stuff that!" she said, she was now determined to see it, "Give it here."

She tickled him in the ribs, forcing him to surrender the cartoon. When she finally looked at it she blushed bright red.

"The word is, old Captain Sparkler's gone too far this time. The beak's after him." Said Nick.

"Beak?" I said confused.

"Gawd, Frank, wot country 'ave you been livin' in? Beak: ma-gi-strate. Got it?"

"Oh, of course," I replied quickly.

"'E's to be made han heg-sample of, they say. Government's got the wind up. 'E's to be done for treason—'anged or transported most like."

"No!" Cat suddenly exclaimed, "All because he pokes some fun at a few people? That's not fair!"

"Wot's fair got to with it? It's powerfull people 'e's takin' on Cat." Replied Nick, "They don't like to be made to look like fools. They 'ate 'im for makin' fun of 'em. 'E can draw as many bare bums as 'e likes but you watch, they'll get 'im for attackin' the king. 'Is last cartoon was plain treason, it was. Banned, I 'ear, so sales 'ave gone sky 'igh as you'd expect."

"So, have they caught him yet?" asked Pedro.

Nick, sounding pleased, said, "Not likely. 'E's too clever for 'em, is Captain Sparkler. 'E loves to drive 'em wild by flauntin' these pictures in front of 'em as 'e dances out of their reach. The word is 'e's stowed away on a ship for France."

I thought about that for a moment. It just didn't make sense. "So how is the pertinacious captain able to draw a cartoon referring to a political scandal that broke last week?"

"Lawd, Frankie boy. You swallered a dictionary or somethink?" said Nick marveling at me. I realized how I had probably sounded and started to stammer an excuse. "No, don't you apologize. Nuffink wrong with a bit of learnin'. You be proud of it, mate! Look at our Cat 'ere: 'oo'd think she 'ad all that stuff packed away in 'er pretty little 'ead? Syd's always 'olding 'er up as a model to the rest of us 'alfwits!" He laughed.

I looked at Cat but she wasn't paying any attention. She looked like she was thinking hard about something. Suddenly she smiled, she looked at Pedro eagerly like she was going to say something but then stopped herself. Just then the referee called out, raising his hand for silence, "Gentlemen! I present our fighters to you: the reigning champion—the Camden Crusher!"

The Crusher raised his arms as his supporters whistled and cheered.

"And our challenger: the Bow Street Butcher!"

Syd jumped to his feet and bowed to acknowledge the applause.

One man shouted, "Go for him, Crusher!"

Another yelled, "Let's hear it for the brave butcher!" and again the crowd cheered proudly.

"You can do it, Syd!" cried Cat above the noise. Syd smiled and nodded at her.

"Now, you know the rules, gents." Continued the referee, "Nothing below the belt. If you're down you have half a minute to return to set-to at the scratch. If you fail to come up to scratch, then your opponent wins. Are you ready, gents?"

Syd grunted and the crusher nodded, smiling mockingly at him. "You're dead." He mouthed.

"Then… set to!" said the referee as he stepped back.

The fight began and I was quickly caught up in the excitement. At first it didn't look to good for Syd. But when it finally looked like he could win, he was knocked down by a punch to the jaw. The crowd began to chant, "One! Two! Three…!"

Syd's second ran up to him, "Come on, son! Get up!"

"Fifteen! Sixteen! Seventeen…!"

"Come on, Syd! Keep going!" screamed Cat.

He slowly got up to his feet and his second lead him to the scratch just in time. "Set to!" shouted the referee. They continued their fight but now they were moving much more slowly. I jumped up and down yelling along with everybody else. Syd knocked the Crusher down with a powerful blow and the crowd again began to chant, "One! Two! Three!"

"Get up, you lazy oaf!" screamed the Crusher's second kicking him, "Get up, you good-for-nothing girl!"

"Twenty-eight! Twenty-nine! Thirty!" shouted the crow.

We all jumped up and down cheering and Syd bowed to each corner, giving a two handed victory signal when he faced us. "Gents, we have a new champion. I give you the Bow Street Butcher!" said the referee raising Syd's fist in the air.

"Come on, let's go congratulate Syd!" said Pedro eagerly. Nick and I followed after him, pushing against the tide of people. When we finally reached him he was surrounded by a group of boys who were shaking his hand and clapping him on the back. I stood back, not sure what to do or say. Pedro saw me and pulled me in front of him.

"This is Frank. He's a friend of me and Cat." He said.

Syd smiled and shook my hand. "Syd." He said. Then looking a little concerned. "By the way, where is Cat?"

We all looked around but couldn't see her. "I am sure she was right behind us." I said, "I will go look for her." Immediately I ran off. I didn't want to feel responsible for her getting lost. I could hear Syd asking Pedro and Nick where they were last time they saw her as I wove my way through the crowds. Finally I saw a patch of red hair and pushed past a few boys who were standing near her.

"There you are, Cat!" I exclaimed as I stumbled into the middle of a clearing around Cat. "We wondered what had happened to you! I was perturbed to find that you had not followed us."

"Per-what?" laughed a tall boy who seemed to be the leader of what I now realized must be one of the gangs. "'Oo do you think you are, sootie? A dook or somethink?"

I stared at him and opened my mouth but made no sound. Was it really that easy to guess what I was?

"Queer fellas you're making friends with, Cat." He said as he pushed me into another boy. The boy, who was nearly the same size as Syd, shoved me to the ground. "That'll 'ave to stop, you understand? Can't 'ave a girl in my gang mixin' with the wrong sort."

Cat was looking at me as I lay crumpled on the ground. "Er, Billy." She said.

"Yeah, Pussycat?"

"I haven't actually given you my answer yet."

I tried to get up but he just kicked me back to the ground and placed his foot on my neck. "Wat was that you were sayin'?"

"Can I think about your offer?"

"Sadly not. For a number of pressin' reasons." He pushed down on my neck and I gasped. "I need an immediate acceptance."

"Billy, really its very decent of you," said Cat lowering her head, "But no!" She ran at him as fast as she could, knocking him to the ground.

As soon as I was free I jumped up and ran. I shoved past people, ducking under arms, until I found Syd. "I found Cat! She's in trouble!" I breathed. Pointing in the direction I had come. Immediately Syd took off. Pedro and I close behind. As we approached them I could hear them laughing and see Cat being hung upside down by the ankle. When the saw Syd they stopped laughing and Cat was dropped to the ground. Syd picked her up and brushed her off. "What you doing to Cat?" He asked menacingly.

"We were just playin', weren't we, Cat?" said the boy, Billy, "'Avin' a laugh."

"I didn't see her laughing," said Pedro as he pushed forward to stand next to her.

"It was nothing Syd. Let's go." Cat muttered, turning around.

Syd looked at her then said, "Ive 'ad enough fightin' fer one day, Boil, but I'll take you all on if I find you touchin' Cat again. Understand this: no one, but no one, messes with my Cat and gets away with it."

Billy raised his hands, palms open, and Syd turned around, marching Cat away. When we were with the rest of Syd's gang he sat her down. "Let's see that ankle, Cat." He said as he pulled off her woolen stocking. I hovered over Syd's shoulder, I was embarrassed to be looking at a ladies ankle but I was too anxious to look away. There were large red marks that were turning into bruises. "I should've punched his stupid face in 'ad I known 'e'd done this." He said.

"It's nothing Syd." Said Cat quickly, "As he said, he was just teasing."

"Teasing!" exploded Pedro, "He had you upside down! That's torture, not teasing. You shouldn't play his game, Cat!"

"I didn't exactly ask to be treated like that!" Cat answered angrily. "If you hadn't all ran off so quick, I wouldn't have been left alone and he wouldn't've dared pick on me." She stood up as if to leave but then collapsed again from the pain in her ankle.

"Cat is right," I said abjectly, "we were most remiss to leave a lady on her own."

"We were what?" asked Nick.

"You shouldn't've run off, leaving me with that dung-ball Billy Shepard." Said Cat.

"So that was Billy 'Boil' Shepard." I asked eagerly. I had heard of the infamous Billy Shepard many times before and I remembered hearing about him when Cat read from her book. I couldn't believe I had actually met him. Well been stepped on by him at least. "Let me make some amends for our lamentable neglect by paying for a chair to carry you home." I said pulling a guinea out of my purse.

Nick and Syd stared at me in amazement.

"Where'd you get that?" asked Syd, then he turned to Cat. "I'll not 'ave you friends with no thief, Cat."

"Nothing to worry about, Syd. It's his." Said Pedro. "He's not what he seems."

Syd stared hard at me. "You a gent?"

I glanced anxiously at Pedro. "He is." He said.

Angrily, Syd said to Cat. "What d'you mean bringin' 'im along, Cat? Didn't you stop to think what might 'appen to 'im if 'e was found out?"

"It was my idea." Pedro said.

"So why didn't you stop it? You know Pedro's green—'e don't know nuffink yet about the streets, but you do, Cat! I thought you were clever!"

Looking defeated, Cat said. "You're right, Syd, I should've stopped him. If you don't mind, I'd like to accept Lord Francis's offer and go home." She stood up and I offered her my arm. We slowly started walking towards the gate.

"You can't walk like that all the way to Oxford street, you daft kitten. I'll carry you." Syd said. Picking her up he said grudgingly over his shoulder, "Come on, your lordship, if you must. I ain't got the gold for a chair—you'll 'ave to foot that bill."


	4. Chapter 4

After seeing Cat off safely, Pedro and I headed home. "Pedro. Do you think we could do this again?" I asked just before he left, "I have had a lot of fun."

He looked at me, then said hesitantly, "I'll have to ask Syd, but I will come by tomorrow to let you know, If that would be alright for you, Sir."

"You can still call me Frank. But yes I think that will be fine."

"Good bye." He bowed and ran off.

I quickly changed my clothes and slipped back into the house and into my room. I heard our carriage pull up as I threw myself into bed. A few minutes later there was a knock on the door and Lizzie slipped in. "How are you?" she asked.

"Actually, I am doing better now." I said sitting up, "I think I might get up now. I am quite hungry."

She eyed me curiously and slowly nodded her head. "Lunch will be ready in a few minutes. Are you sure you are alright?"

I nodded and stood up to prove it. I managed to evade some of my father's questions and immediately after lunch slipped into the sitting room where I spent a few hours thinking about my day.

The next morning I struggled through my lessons, which were extra long since I had missed half of them on Friday, and nearly shouted for joy when Joseph came in saying that Mr. Hawkins from the theater was here. I told him to show him into the sitting room and hurried there myself.

"Pedro!" I said eagerly, "Does this mean I can go with you?"

"Yes," He replied, "If you want, I will show you around London then take you to Syd's place."

"Great! Wait for me out front." I walked him to the door and told Joseph, "I will be gone for a little while. Visiting friends."

"Would you like the carriage?" he asked although he looked like he already knew the answer.

"No thank you. I think I will walk." I said walking out side. I went around the house to the stable and changed into my chimney sweep outfit. I quickly found Pedro and we started off. He showed me the areas of London that I had never been to before and few places that I had seen. Although it was a much different experience.

"This morning, Syd told me that there is going to be a fight between The Butcher's Boys and Billy Shepard's gang tonight." Said Pedro as we approached Syd's butcher shop. "Maybe you could come."

"I hope so. But wouldn't I have to be part of the gang?" I asked.

He smiled at me but didn't say anything. When we entered his shop, Syd walked over to us. "'Ello, Prince. Your Lordship." He said.

"Call me Frank." I said quickly. "I hear that there is going to be a fight between your's and Billy's gangs. Would it be possible for me to come?" I watched him nervously. Wondering if he would be angry with me for inviting myself. He looked at Pedro and they grinned at each other.

"Welcome to the gang, Frank." He said shaking my hand. I stared at him incredulously then smiled.

"Thank you, Syd." I said. I spent the day with the gang gallivanting about London and was very sorry when it was time for me to go home.

Pedro was guiding me back home when he suddenly remembered something. "I forgot to tell you. Mr. Sheridan has invited you to the theater. I have to rehearse for the play every day this week but I am sure Cat would love to show you around."

I smiled. "Splendid! Lizzie will be delighted."

When I told Lizzie and father about our visit to the theater, Lizzie immediately began to send out invitations and father sent a letter to Mr. Sheridan confirming that we were indeed able to come. When he was done he turned to me.

"Frank, when you see Miss Royal tell her that I have read her manuscript and am interested in supporting her when she has finished it." He said.

"Yes, sir!" I said happily. Cat was going to be thrilled!

Charlie and I rode ahead of the carriage on our horses. I was telling him about my adventures of the past few days when we arrived in front of the theater. Cat was waiting for us at the door. I jumped off my horse and bounded over to her, shaking her hand.

"Here she is!" I exclaimed. "You should've seen her, Charlie! She flattened that bully and saved my skin. She made a splendid boy."

Charlie bowed and grinned at her. She blushed. "I hope, Miss Royal, you'll record your adventures for us. I am eager to hear all about it from your pen." He said politely.

I clapped my hand to my head. "That reminds me!" I cried. "Father was very impressed by your manuscript. He told me to tell you that he'll support your first venture into print when you finish it."

Pedro appeared next to Cat, wearing a sailor's costume. "In that case, she'd better get a move on." He said.

Lizzie and Marzi-pain Marchmont were now approaching us and I muttered to Charlie. "Poor Lizzie, she keeps on trying to be polite to Marzi-pain for Father's sake, failing to comprehend that he's beyond saving."

"Marzi-pain?" whispered Cat.

"Marzipan—Marzi-pain Marchmont—because of the hair." I explained but she still looked puzzled. "You know, marzipan, that yellowy-white almond stuff you get on cakes?"

"Oh, of course," she said. But I could tell that she still had no idea what I was talking about.

"I'm sorry. That was stupid of me. Next time you come to tea, I shall ensure that you sample every sort of marzipan under the sun, Miss Royal. Our French cook is a master." I was thinking whether or not she would even be coming to tea again when Marchmont's voice reached us and I grimaced.

"It is not a patch on Covent Garden," he said loudly,"Father has a private box there, you know."

"But, Mr. Marchmont, I'm sure you'll agree that it is not the gaudy wrappings, but the content that counts. The acting here has no rival, with Mr. Kemble, Mrs. Siddons, and Mrs. Jordon to call on." Said Elizabeth. Marchmont sniffed but didn't say anything.

Pedro bowed and Cat curtsied as everyone arrived. "I was just telling Miss Royal about Papa's admiration for her manuscript." I said loudly. Directing it at Marchmont.

He smiled. "Your father has peculiar taste, Lord Francis. I grant that she write a fair enough hand for a girl of her class, but as for the contents…" He left like that and I almost inserted my own opinion but then he continued talking. "The drawings, however: thinking about them afterward, I was most intrigued. You surely did not do them yourself, Miss Royal? The style was very distinctive. I could almost swear it was…familiar." He gave Cat a hard stare and she looked just a little worried.

"No, she didn't. That was Johnny Smith, the prompter." Said Pedro,"Cat'll introduce you to him if you're interested. He does really wicked likenesses, really clever."

Cat looked angrily at Pedro.

"Wicked likenesses?" Marchmont said cooly, "I've no doubt of that."

"But he doesn't draw much." Ca said quickly, looking at Pedro. "In fact, it was probably the first time he's put pencil to paper when he drew for me." Pedro looked at her surprised but she ignored him. "And unfortunately, he's been called away suddenly to… to see a sick uncle. He's not here. Not in the building."

"Well….anyways, I have got to go back in. See you later." Said Pedro after one last curious glance at Cat.

She led us into the theater and backstage. Pointing out a few things on the way. I saw the balloon that had been used in the play and looked at Charlie. He grinned at me and we both ran over to it. Cat quickly pulled us out before running over to where a few of Lizzie's friends were busy touching all of the props they could see. Marchmont was opening every door he could see. He looked like he was searching for something, but that seemed ridiculous. What could he be looking for in the theater? As he was about to open yet another door Cat cried out, "Oh, sir, you can't go in there."

"Why not, Miss Royal? Mr. Sheridan has given us the passport to roam. He said we were to go anywhere we liked."

"Did he?" Replied cat. "Well, I'm sure he did not intend the permission to include the ladies' powder room."

He flushed and quickly let go of the handle. "There's no sign."

Cat shrugged. "Of course not. Those who need it know what it is. If you require the privy, I could ask one of the stagehands to take you."

"No, no, that won't be necessary." He said, his cheeks turning red as he walked down the corridor. We followed after him and stopped at the scenery lot at the back of the stage.

"Miss Royal!" I called seeing that she was still standing by the door. "Miss Royal, tell us again how this balloon thing works." She looked at the door "Leave Lizzie; she'll find us all right." I continued.

She looked distracted as she explained the mechanics of it resulting in a very jumbled account of ropes and pullies. I got just enough out of it figure it out for myself. "What do you think, Charlie?" I wondered. "Shall we test it out on old Marzi-pain and leave him up there? It would be doing the world a favor."

Charlie laughed. "Good idea. You still haven't got your own back on him for snitching to your father about that coach you drove around the square."

I smiled. "Your right! How had I forgotten that?"

"You problem, Frank, is that you're too good-natured to bear a grudge." He said approvingly.

Jane added with a smile, "Or too absentminded to remember anything for long."

I laughed. It was probably true. Lizzie appeared next to Cat and said something quietly to her.

"Of course, Lady Elizabeth." Said Cat. She left us in the costume room with Miss Bower to watch over us. I felt like a small child needing a babysitter, although I admit it was probably a good idea to have one. She let us try on the costumes and I immediately picked up Pedro's turban and placed it on my head. I began to dance around trying to copy Pedro, of course failing miserably, making Miss Bower howl with laughter.

"Lawd love us," she said, "You'd sure be a treat on the stage you would, sir."

I stopped my spinning and gave a wobbly bow.

"Ma'am, may you be blessed a hundred times for your kind words. An actor's life for me, it is!"

"How many dukes do you know who combine their duties with clowning in front of the rabble?" asked Marchmont.

"Not enough!" I cried, making Jane and Miss Bower giggle.

I noticed Cat and Lizzie walk into the room and waved.

"I think I'd better take my brother away, Cat. Before he does himself an injury. Thank you for your kind attention this morning." Said Lizzie.

We all said goodbye, all except the Marchmonts that is, and left. But not before Cat removed an ostrich feather from the younger Miss Marchmont's reticule.

When we arrived home Lizzie pulled me into the library. "Frank, there is something I want to tell you."

"Well, what is it?" I asked.

"You know how Cat stopped Marchmont from going into the room, saying that it was the ladies' powder room?" she began. I nodded my head and smiled, the picture of his embarrassment fresh in my mind. "Well, it wasn't the ladies' powder room."

"What do you mean?" I asked curiously.

"Cat was trying to prevent us from meeting with someone who was in that room."

"And who was in there?"

She blushed a little as she replied. "Lord Johnathan Fitzroy. Mr. Sheridan is helping him until a reconciliation can be made with his father."

"Really?" I said, "This is getting rather exciting, with a lord disappearing only to turn up in a theater being guarded by Cat. I wonder what else will happen?"

"I hope nothing else 'exciting' happens." She said anxiously.


	5. not a real chapter

Sorry about not updating! I lost the book (The Diamond of Drury Lane) and I cant write without it. I will be looking for it and maybe get a copy from the library to use in the meantime. But I hope to start writing again soon.


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